


Principium

by Rynna_Aurelia



Series: Charlotte James Potter 'verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Developing Friendships, Developing Rivalries, Feels, Female Harry Potter, Female Harry Potter - Charlotte Potter, Fluff, Gen, Gifts, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts First Year, Letters, No Bashing, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Prequels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynna_Aurelia/pseuds/Rynna_Aurelia
Summary: Before Fourth Year, before there was an ancient tournament, and magic breaking its own rules for the sake of one family, there was a lonely bespectacled girl named Charlotte, a bushy-haired prodigy named Hermione, and a painfully shy boy named Neville. This is their own strange story of becoming, adventure, and not failing Potions just because the Professor's a git.





	1. Friends, As Defined by Charlotte Potter

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For those whom I've thoroughly befuddled: After getting several lovely reviews commenting that the previous format with one-shots was confusing, I've decided to compile them into one work, which I will update whenever I can manage. No guarantees on chronological order, but I'll try to keep them in some semblance of an order. Apologies for the inconvenience, and I hope this works better.  
> For those just finding my madness here, these are the prequels to my lovely trope-ridden work, "Quia Mea Familia".

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte "Charley" Potter has been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry; with it, comes for the first time, gaining friends of her choosing.  
>  _"I'm Fred Weasley, and that lump over there is my brother, George."_  
>  _"My name's Ron, Ron Weasley."_  
>  _"Pleasure. I'm Hermione Granger."_  
>  _"N-N-Neville L-Longbottom."_  
>  _"That's Crabbe and Goyle, and my name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine, and instead belongs to the lovely J.K. Rowling.  
> Warnings: Un-Britpicked, self-edited.

**Title Translation:** _The Beginning_

* * *

  _"But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them."  
_

-J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

* * *

"Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, Nine-and-Three-Quarters..." Charley Potter muttered under her breath. "Hagrid, would it have killed you to show me where it is?"

As she pushed her cart through a sea of people, the eleven-year-old glanced up at the signs of King's Cross, and looked again at her glossy ticket, the number shining mockingly back at her. The groundskeeper had disappeared some time ago, and she had yet to find any sign of a magical train, let alone a platform that didn't exist.

"I don't suppose—"

"—That you are in need of some help, miss?"

Charley startled as two identical boys appeared in front of her, forcing her to swerve and almost causing Hedwig to fall off. Thankfully, one of them darted forward, and stabilized her snowy owl with a sheepish grin.

"I apologize for my brother, miss. You see, he—" This time, the other redhead spoke over his brother.

"—Is infinitely more charming, good-looking, and talented than myself."

" —Was dropped on his head at birth." Charley arched her eyebrows behind her taped frames as the two red-headed brothers immediately exaggerated their expressions into a toothy grin and pout, respectively, looking rather disconcertingly similar to the masks her music teacher Mister Andersen had kept on display.

"But my inferior half is being rude," The one on the left said, walking forward. "I'm Fred Weasley, and that lump over there is my brother, George."

"Pleasure to meet you," They chorused.

"Are you ... _wizards?_ " She asked in a whisper, looking at the guard standing barely two meters away. The twins, in contrast, were positively flippant.

"Indeed we are, and unless we're mistaken—"

"You're Muggle-born."

"Raised by Muggles, actually," she corrected, the new word tasting strange in her mouth. "Only found out I was a witch a couple days ago. Where's your family?"

Here, Fred and George exchanged unreadable looks, ones Charley imagined were easy to have with a dear friend—particularly a sibling.

"We ran ahead," Fred said brightly at last, before changing the subject. "Our darling little brother ickle Ronniekins was throwing up a fuss, and we got bored."

"Oh." As someone whose cousin kicked up a fuss on an hourly basis, she could sympathize. However, it still didn't answer the question of why there were talking to _her._

"So, we would like to offer you our services, in getting onto the platform," He continued, oblivious to Charley's musings. "You seem rather less fussy than our brother -"

"And you're too puny," George chimed in.

"I am _not_ puny—" Charley interrupted.

"—To be anything other than a firstie, and usually, you lot know nothing," Fred was unfazed by her scowling, and if anything, drew himself up to tower over her. Childishly, she stuck her tongue out at him. Infuriatingly, he only smirked. "See? Puny. You barely come up to my shoulder."

"Children, you're both pretty," George cut in, before Charley could respond. "So, Miss Firstie, care to put yourself under our tutelage?"

For a long moment, the young orphan studied the twins. Neither, it seemed, really had placed much thought into their offer, when it meant quite a bit from where she was standing. At school, Dudley had done an excellent job of making sure everyone knew that unless you wanted to mess with Dudley Dursley and his gang, his oddball cousin Potter was best ignored. And no one, Charley included, wanted to mess with them, despite several incidents that would indicate otherwise. _Really, though_ , she thought, _unless they try to take my stuff —_and good luck with that, her trunk was **heavy** _— there's nothing to lose. And I do need to find a way onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters._

"Alright, how _do_ you get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?" she asked cautiously, her hands tightening on the handle of her baggage cart. Fred pointed at the brick wall ahead of them with a rather gentler expression than the one he'd been previously sporting.

"All you have to do is walk straight at that barrier. Just remember, don't stop, and don't be afraid you'll crash. Best do it at a bit of a run for your first time as well, 'specially if you're nervous."

The young girl looked at the older boy incredulously, doubt of his wizard status flooding her for the first time. What if this was all some big joke, and this was at last the punch line, ending with her sprawled on the floor at King's Cross?

"One of us can go with you, if you like," George offered, as if he had read her mind, moving from his position for the first time, abandoning his own luggage cart.

"That would work, I suppose. Oh! I've been rude," She remembered, the manners her aunt had pounded into her taking over. "I'm, er, Charley. It's lovely to meet you, George, Fred."

At her acknowledgement, both boys looked dumbfounded, speaking in chorus, _again_. "You can tell us apart?"

Charley blinked. "Um, yeah, I think. One of you has a slightly longer nose—Fred, right?—and George, I _think_ you tend to slouch more?"

"Also," she added, becoming thoughtful. "Fred, you tend to speak first and more. If you really want to fool people, you should let George take the lead more often."

The twins nodded in unison, grins breaking out on their faces.

"Right, then," Fred announced. "We're keeping this one, Forge."

"Indeed we must, Gred," His brother said sagely. "If only to keep her from using her power for evil—or for our mother."

_Right, now they're making even less sense than before._

"Back to the original point," Charley commented slowly. "You told me to run through a brick wall?"

George hummed in denial. "It just _looks_ like a brick wall. Here, I'll help you with your cart."

She shifted left, and allowed George to take partial control as Fred stood off to the side, guarding their luggage.

"Miss Firstie, I hope to see you in Gryffindor," Fred told her warmly. "George, don't let the lady fall."

"Would I ever?" George responded, his eyes wide and innocent as Charley giggled at the banter.

"Ask Angie," George's brother's tone was full of wicked amusement. "And Katie. And Alicia. Oh, and don't—"

"Point taken," He groused, interrupting his brother. After a furtive look-around at the surrounding Muggles, he then turned to Charley, who couldn't help but feel alternately bemused and amused at the interplay between the brothers. "Are you ready for your first trip on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Probably not," Charley answered honestly. "I don't have to know any magic yet, do I?"

"No," He said, delight leaking through in his voice. "Not yet."

With a deep breath, the two magicals charged through the wall, Charley drawing strength from the confidence of the redheaded boy beside her; the last thing she heard before passing through the bricks was a young girl's voice. "Fred! Was that _Charlotte Potter?"_

* * *

Fifteen minutes, after gaining some help from a friend of the twins named Lee Jordan, Charley had her stuff stowed away in an empty compartment. With George gone back after saying a brief good-bye, Charley pulled out her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_ after changing into her robes and began to read about the Hippocampus, when yet another red-haired boy barged into the compartment, this time closer to her own age.

"Mind if I sit here?" He nervously asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Charley silently nodded, and he dragged his things in, taking a seat across from her as she resumed her reading.

"Are you Charlotte Potter?" he asked abruptly, his blue eyes studying her forehead of all places with a rather disturbing intensity.

"I ... I prefer Charley, actually," she responded, discarding her book. "Who're you?"

"Wicked," he breathed. A moment later, he added with far more enthusiasm than he had when entering the compartment, "My name's Ron, Ron Weasley."

"Nice to meet you, Ron," Charley felt more awkward by the second. Hagrid had said she was famous, but people recognizing her on _sight?_ That was just plain creepy. "Are you related to Fred and George? They helped me find the platform, you see." _  
_

Ron deflated at this, and muttered something indecipherable before turning his attention back on Charley. "Would it be weird if I asked to see the ... scar?"

His tone was almost reverential, as if he were discussing King Arthur or the Loch Ness Monster, and not something Charley had considered part of her for her entire life. "Just a bit. You see, I didn't actually know the truth about _— it _until a couple days ago. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and they aren't wizards."

"Plus," she added. "It's a reminder that my parents are well, gone."

Ron, thankfully, winced at this. "Sorry, mate. I should've probably realized it'd be a sore subject for you."

Charley only smiled tightly at him, and the pair fell into a brief silence. Fortunately, after an aborted attempt to attempt a spell on Ron's pet rat Scabbers, yet another person barged into the compartment, already dressed in a First Year uniform identical to Charley's.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" she demanded. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

She had a bossy, brash voice, with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"No—did someone really lose one?" Ron asked with interest. "Good on them. If I had a toad, I'd try and lose it too."

"That's rather horrible of you," The girl sniffed. "I'll have you know, his grandmother gave him it, and he's genuinely worried about his toad; besides, who're you to make that sort of judgment?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron said, before muttering under his breath, "And someone who'd like you to bugger off."

"Pleasure. I'm Hermione Granger," The bushy-haired girl responded dismissively, before turning to her. "And ... holy cricket, you're Charlotte Potter, aren't you?"

"I prefer Charley. You've really heard of me?" Charley was beginning to feel rather dazed in the face of the constant recognition.

"Of course," Hermione looked surprised at this. "You're mentioned in _Modern Magical History_ , _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ , and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._ I'd imagine everyone in Britain knows your name."

"Am I? Hooray," Charley muttered. At this, Hermione gave her a look of dismay.

"Goodness, you didn't know? I'd have learned everything I could, if it were me. I can loan you the books so you can learn for yourself, if you like, if you don't have them already."

Charley nodded, the dazed feeling only increasing at the thought of actual books with her name in them. _All this, just over a scar she couldn't remember getting?_

"Lovely," Hermione said briskly. "Anyway, I have to go help Neville look for his toad, Trevor. I suppose I'll see both of you later, then."

She turned to leave the compartment, and after a brief glance at Ron - who had only grown more sullen as Hermione had talked—Charley ran after her.

"Would you mind if I helped?" she asked awkwardly, out in the hallway. Hermione blinked, once, then twice, apparently surprised, before giving her a bright smile.

"Of course not, I can't blame you; I wouldn't want to stay in a compartment with _him_ either. Come on, Neville's searching down there."

Charley followed her down the empty hallway and into a compartment containing a terrarium and a slightly pudgy-looking, brown-haired boy, who looked just as awkward as Charley had felt since getting on the train.

"Hermione, I-I think T-T-Trevor's under this bench ..." He trailed off as Charley entered the apartment. "Oh."

"Hello, I'm Charley - Charley Potter, " she said quietly. "Nice to meet you."

"N-N-Neville L-Longbottom." The two eleven-year-olds stared at each other, with Neville opening his mouth twice, only to close it, before Hermione took over.

"Right, you said he's under the bench, Neville?" He nodded, gesturing into a dark corner. As if on cue, a croak emanated from it.

"Best get a Prefect, then," The buck-toothed girl decided. "They can Summon Trevor out."

Charley, after studying the corner, and seeing only one way for the toad to escape, disagreed. "I can just get him myself, Hermione. I'm usually pretty quick."

"Are you quite sure?" She asked nervously. "It is a _toad._ "

She shrugged. "I've handled worse. Besides, I'm sure Neville takes good care of him."

Neville nodded quickly, his eyes switching between the two girls. Mind made up, Charley crawled under the bench, and emerged barely twenty seconds later with a rather upset toad.

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed. Charley gingerly passed the amphibian to him, a smile flickering across her face at his happiness.

"T-Thanks, Charley, f-for helping f-find him," He stuttered out. Charley gave him a self-deprecating shrug.

"It was nothing, you and Hermione did the hard bit anyway." Hermione shook her head.

"I couldn't have touched it." Neither Neville nor Charlotte responded, and the three First Years were silent for a time as they sat down, until Hermione broke the silence.

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? According to everyone I've talked to, Gryffindor is the best choice, but I don't think Ravenclaw would be too bad."

"My gran wants me in Gryffindor like my parents, but with my luck, I'll end up in Hufflepuff." Neville said glumly. Charley just shrugged helplessly when they looked at her.

"I've no idea. I don't know any of the houses." Hermione fixed her with a curious look.

"You really don't know a lot about everything, don't you? Honestly, I'm Muggle-born, and I know this much."

"Excuse me for only learning about magic a couple days ago," She shot back, the first slivers of anger entering her voice. "I've been rather busy dealing with the fact that it exists, and that I'm not ..."

She let the sentence hang, the word _freak_ ringing through her head. The girl opposite her, meanwhile, looked rather chastised, and almost - resigned?

"I'm quite sorry, I tend to offend people when I talk," Hermione lamented. "I've been told I'm a bit of a know-it-all."

Charley look at her, considering. To be honest, in the time since she had met Hermione Granger, she _had_ been one. But, she'd also meant well, which was more than Charley could say for nearly anyone else she had met so far in this new world of; the pale boy she had met in Diagon Alley quickly came to mind.

"As long as you're willing to explain it to me, I couldn't care less." She assured. Hermione's face brightened, while Neville stuttered out a similar answer.

"But, seriously: what are the houses?"

The bushy-haired girl, with the help of Neville, happily detailed the traits that determined who went where as Charley listened attentively. Eventually, as the city outside their window turned into farmland, and later, as the conversation evolved, shadows began to creep over the landscape flying by.

Some time later, as Charley cautiously worked through Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Jelly Beans with the other two, she couldn't help but wonder at how much she was enjoying herself with her new friends. Hermione was flat-out brilliant, once you got used to her brash demeanor, and Neville, while shy, had proved equally knowledgeable and fun to talk with.

Unfortunately, their odd little peace was burst when the pale, blond boy from Madam Malkin's strode in, flanked by what looked like the sons of trolls at first glance.

"Is it true?" he demanded, looking down his nose at the trio.

"That I go by Charley? Yes, it's true," The pale boy huffed as Neville began to snicker, before silencing himself at a look from the nearest pseudo-bodyguard.

"They're saying up and down the train Charlotte Potter is in this compartment," He stated imperiously, looking Charley up and down. "It must be you, then."

"Yes," said the bespectacled girl, looking worriedly at Neville, who was growing steadily paler.

"That's Crabbe and Goyle," His voice was dismissive, as he took a step towards Charley, who looked at him blankly. "And my name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Hermione choked; Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, Muggle-born?"

"Not at all, Mister Bond," she said, taking a shuddering breath, before dissolving into giggles. "Not at all."

Malfoy ignored Neville entirely as he turned back to Charley. "You'll see soon enough that some families in our world are of better quality than others, Potter, and you don't want to go and befriend the wrong sort."

As if to prove his point, he gave Neville a disgusted look, who was now pale as a sheet as he clutched Trevor's open terrarium. Malfoy then extended his hand to Charley.

"I can help you avoid missteps there."

_Really, he and Dudley would get on, wouldn't they?  
_

Charley gave him an icy stare. "I think I can manage to tell who the wrong sort is for myself, thanks."

The blond didn't turn red, but there was now a definite pink tinge to his face. "Suit yourself, Potter. But I'd be careful, if I were you. If you insist on hanging out with the impure riffraff and blood traitors, you may just end up like your parents, or like Longbottom's, if you're ru—"

He was cut off when Neville launched himself at him, Trevor forgotten. Hermione and Charley leapt to their feet.

"Neville," Charley implored, shoving her way past Goyle, attempting to end the fight before a Prefect saw them. "Neville, he's not worth it _— Neville._"

Finally, she and Hermione hauled him off Malfoy by his robes. Much to her satisfaction, she saw that Malfoy was now sporting a split lip and bruised cheekbone as he was pulled up by his two goons.

"Leave, Malfoy," Hermione ordered, her wand in her hand, while Charley inspected an unresisting Neville.

"Or what?" he taunted, his ego apparently untouched as Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly.

"Or," Hermione's tone turned dangerously sweet. "You get to see how many spells the _riffraff_ can learn in a month. Personally, I like the Full Body-Bind best."

Malfoy scoffed, but his eyes betrayed him, as they darted around the compartment. Seeing no way out, he only delivered on last shot to Charley before leaving.

"I'll remember this one, Potter, and believe me, my father will hear about this!"

After the three boys disappeared, Hermione rolled her eyes. "What kind of nonsense is 'My father will hear about this?' Does he really believe that his father will be able to punish us for defending a friend?"

"He may; Lucius Malfoy is one of the Governors," Neville quietly interjected, staring off into space. Charley hovered, uncertain of what to do. Normally, she didn't have other friends to worry about when there was a fight. She still wasn't quite sure if she liked it.

"Why didn't you go with him, Charley?" He suddenly asked. She stared at him. "He is right. The two of us—we're gonna be misfits. You could have your pick of friends at Hogwarts."

"Neville, if I were asked to pick you or him twice, I would pick you three times; same goes for Hermione. You're both my friends, and I'll always pick you over gits like him -" She broke off, suddenly uncertain. _Nice one, Potter. Call someone you've known barely two hours your friend and tell them something like that._

But Neville was now giving her a fragile smile. "Really? I'm your friend?"

Relieved, Charlotte flopped down beside him. "Really. Besides, d'you really think he'll explain Herbology to me without making me feel like a moron?"

"Or tell me when I offend someone?" Hermione chimed in, beaming. No one spoke, for a long minute; _but then,_ Charley mused, _none of them needed to._

The moment among the newly-formed trio, however, was interrupted when a feminine voice sounded through the train, instructing them what to do when they would arrive at Hogwarts. Charley, relieved, she wouldn't have to retrieve her luggage from where she had left it with Ron Weasley, helped Neville lock Trevor in his terrarium to prevent any more jail breaks.

After navigating their way through the crowded corridor, Charley, along with everyone else, fought their way out onto a tiny platform lit only by three dim lanterns. The black-haired girl shivered in the cold air, when a lamp came towards them, bobbing over the heads of everyone else, and Charley heard a familiar voice.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Charley?"

"Just fine, Hagrid!" She called back. And with a last look at Hermione and Neville, they followed the Keeper of the Keys to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This plot bunny is in the same universe as my "Grass Is Greener" story (Which is further along in this series), and was intended to help me get a better grasp on the AU. Feel free to tell me what you thought of it, leave suggestions on other moments - e.g., the troll, confrontation with Riddle, Dudley, - in the comments below!


	2. This Is Halloween: Troll Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing really changes for Charlotte "Charley" Potter, but everything does. Sort of. She's still working on it. The troll's still a nuisance, though.  
>  _"Well, you see, Professor, it's a funny story-"_  
>  _"Rather complicated, involving six Gryffindors-"_  
>  _"And one ungentlemanly troll." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine, and instead belongs to the lovely J.K. Rowling.  
> Warnings: Un-Britpicked, self-edited.

_"Friends are the siblings God never gave us."_

_-Mencius_

* * *

"Hermione?" Charley called out as she entered the girl's bathroom. "You there?"

The other girl's sobs only echoed back in response, making the black-haired First Year grit her teeth as anger at Weasley and Finnigan returned. _Really, where did they get off calling Hermione a menace when they kept blowing up half the classroom?_

Dismissing thoughts of the two insensitive boys in favor of her actual best friend, Charley walked down to the stall Hermione was hiding in, sliding down against the wall perpendicular to it to sit down.

"Do you want to talk, or plot bloody revenge? I'm perfectly fine with either," she said at last, jokingly. _Mostly. Maybe. Let's just say it's a good thing I don't know any good curses yet._

Hermione only gave a wet huff of laughter in response, before asking, her normally brash voice small and timid, "They were right, weren't they? I'm a proper know-it-all nightmare."

"No, Hermione, no - they were just being stupid because they refused to listen to Flitwick and couldn't get the spell right," the bespectacled girl said quickly.

"But they _are -_ you and Neville are my only friends, and I know what people say, just like in primary. I just thought things would be _different_ here; I'd get the chance to be normal, and have _friends-_ "

"Hermione Granger, don't be stupid, please," Charley interrupted. "You _have_ Neville and me - plus, aren't you always talking with the Ravenclaws? Lisa Turpin and Terry Boot think you're great, and won't stop complaining about how you aren't in their House. All that happened today was you just - scared Weasley and Finnigan, a little. You're brilliant, and a little terrifying, but I wouldn't be friends with you otherwise."

Hermione didn't say anything for a minute.

"Hermione?"

She opened the stall door to face Charley, wiping away tear tracks. "Do you really mean it?"

The bespectacled witch looked at her confusedly. "Why wouldn't I? I was perfectly serious."

Hermione gave her a watery smile, before giving her a fierce hug. Charley stiffened, unsure of what to do as she was embraced by the other girl; Hermione let go an awkward second later, giving her a worried look, leaving the green-eyed girl feeling rather uncomfortable.

"Want to go back to the Common Room?" she asked Hermione, as much to leave the grimy girls' bathroom as to distract her friend.

Thankfully, the bushy-haired First Year let it go. "Very much," she replied with distaste, glancing at the stall behind her.

But before they left, Neville came running in, red-faced and gasping. "C-Char..."

"What is it, Neville?" she asked worriedly.

"T-T-T-T..."

"Neville, breathe, _then_ talk," Hermione ordered. The pudgy boy obeyed, taking several gasping breaths before managing to stutter out a single word.

"T-T-Troll..."

"What?" Charley whispered, exchanging looks with a paling Hermione. "Where, Neville? In _Hogwarts?_ Nearby?"

He nodded. "N-Near. C-Came t-t-to warn you-"

At the same moment, a low, ominous groan echoed through the cavernous bathroom, right before they saw the door to the bathroom shatter into pieces. All three First Years ducked into the open stalls, watching fearfully as the troll lurched into the chamber.

 _Ugly_ was the first thing that popped into Charley's mind as she saw it, followed closely by _warty_ and _disgusting._ The troll looked about ten feet tall, with grey, dull skin and a lumpy body. It shuffled through the bathroom, its arms so long the spiked wooden club it held scraped along the stone floor, creating an screeching noise that left Charley clapping her ears. Worst of all, the _smell_ coming from it was almost enough to make her puke.

Then it saw them. At first, when its dull black eyes landed on the stalls, Charley held out hope it would either miss them - it looked stupid enough - or just pass over three small eleven-year-olds doing their best to not be noticed. Unfortunately, their luck could never turn out to be that good.

The troll bared its rotting teeth in an parody of a smile, and began to advance on them, swinging its club as it went, sending wooden and stone debris everywhere.

"Run!" Charley yelled. Neville didn't need to be told twice, darting forward towards the entrance with a backward glance at the two girls. Charley quickly followed, ducking a piece of a sink that had gone flying as the troll swung its club wildly once more through the air. Hermione, though, was frozen, her mouth open, and terror etched in every line of her face as she backed against the wall.

The troll, in some corner in its tiny mind, recognized an easy target, and began to advance on the First Year as she screamed helplessly. Neville stopped dead, and turned to look at Charley, who only gave him a desperate look as she tried to figure out some way for the two of them to help her friend.

"We need to help Hermione!"

"W-What? How?" Neville asked helplessly, even as he picked up a metal pipe. "W-We're First Years."

Charley took a look at the troll, and then did something that was equally the bravest and most idiotic thing she could've possibly managed.

She ran towards the hulking creature, and launched herself onto its back with a great jump. The troll bellowed, and began to shake itself back and forth, attempting to rid itself of the First Year.

Charley stubbornly clung on for dear life, while Neville hurled any debris he could find; Hermione was still paralyzed with fright, and Charley couldn't blame her. But she still had to at least _move._

"Hermione!" she grunted out. "Do - something!"

The buck-toothed girl looked around her, then up at Charley imploringly. "W-What?!"

A neuron fired somewhere in the troll's brain, and it reached up with one long, thick arm, plucking Charley off of itself, holding the disoriented First Year upside down in front of itself.

"A-Anything!" she exclaimed, as her glasses fell off, leaving her nearly blind. Charley heard Neville yell something, and a whoosh of something go by her face. She was confused at what had passed by her for a brief moment, before she realized what it was with a cold sense of dread.

The troll had attempted to hit her with its club. And it had barely missed.

Charley then heard the whistle of air once more, and braced herself for the inevitable blow, when she heard the voice of the most unlikely person imaginable.

"Hey, pea-brain!"

_Ronald Weasley._

She couldn't see him from where she was, but the troll then grunted, and she heard a faint thud as something hit the troll's skin. And then another, and another, as he continued to yell insults at it in a quavering tone. The creativity, though, increased every time.

Then as the troll swung its arms around, she saw not one, not two, but _three_ patches of red.

"I don't know, about you, Mister Troll-"

"-I mean, you talk a big game-

"-but we've seen bigger," Fred and George chorused, their voices a touch less brash than they normally were.

"I don't suppose you'd put the lady down?" _Fred, don't do-_

"Brother, does he look like a gentleman?" _George, please-_

"Quite true, twin of mine, quite true."

As the troll continued to wave her around, still holding her up by her ankles, Charley lost it as the two Third Years kept joking about her predicament.

"Quit jabbering and get me down already!" she screamed, her voice jumping an octave as the troll gave her a vicious shake.

Surprisingly, they seemed to quickly sober, as George gave a curt _"Relashio!"_ from somewhere that sounded far closer than she expected. The troll let go of Charley as if it had been burned, and she fell through the air.

Charley hit the ground hard, but Hermione was there, shakily helping her up and away from the troll as it swung its club wildly around, sending bits of plumbing, rock, and dust everywhere. As they backed away, Hermione also handed Charley her frames, which she gratefully put on, relieved to be able to see clearly again. Meanwhile, the Weasleys' taunts echoed through the chamber, and she could see the two of them launching what looked like red light at it, to little effect as the creature continued its rampage.

Terrifyingly, the constant crashes and noises seemed to be driving the troll mad and more violent, as it flailed with little regard for anything around it; unfortunately, it seemed to be moving in one specific direction. Namely, that of Neville and Ron.

As it began to back the two boys into a corner, Charley began to join Hermione in her throwing of rocks, even as she urged the two boys to "Do something, already!"

"What?" Ron hollered back, even as his eyes desperately darted to the twins, whom were stilling sending the scarlet jets of light. "We don't have any weapons!"

Hermione yelled angrily, "Are you a wizard or not?"

Neville's eyes then at last lit up, and Charley could see him set his jaw, even as his eyes remained wide with terror. The two girls saw him give a wild wave of his wand and yell, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The troll's club was swept up into the air by the charm, and hovered for a brief, terror-filled second above the creature's head as it looked at its empty hands uncomprehendingly, before the wooden weapon dropped on its head. The mountain troll swayed for a moment, before falling to the floor with a ground-shaking _thud._

Charley could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears as the dust settled, and her hands shaking a bit.

"Is it... dead?" Hermione nervously questioned, glancing at her friend beside her.

"I don't think so," Charley said slowly, before looking to the twins, both of whom were currently fussing over their recalcitrant younger brother. "You're both in Care of Magical Creatures, aren't you?"

Both of them shook their heads as Charley and Hermione inched their way past the giant troll to a shaking Neville.

"You don't need a Care class to know a club isn't getting through that skull anytime soon," Fred replied with no small amount of bravado, even as he, George, and Ron inched away from the unconscious troll as it gave out a groan.

"J-Just knocked out, then?" Neville asked nervously.

"Looks like." Even as he said it, Fred looked like he was trying to convince himself as much as the younger Gryffindors, before turning to his twin to talk in a quiet, indecipherable whisper away from the First Years.

"Great job with the spell, Nev," Charley murmured meanwhile, while Hermione nodded in agreement, adding, "You were brilliant, Neville."

The Gryffindor blushed fiercely at at the compliment, before the three turned to the Weasleys; everyone stood awkwardly in the silence, unsure of what to say.

"Thanks, for ... saving us, then," Charley offered lamely. Surprisingly, Fred shook his head and pointed his thumb at Ron, explaining, "Thank Ickle Ronniekins here, when Quirrell came running into the Great Hall-"

"-hollering about a troll in the dungeons, and Longbottom went running-"

"-he asked us to help save you lot."

Hermione turned to Ron, her face skeptical. _"Really?"_

Charley watched rather smugly as he shifted from one foot to the other, and stared at the floor, muttering, "Didn't mean for you to get so upset. I'm sorry, Granger."

"It's fine," Hermione replied; she then proceeded to turn her back to him, and engaged in conversation with Neville while completely ignoring the youngest Weasley's existence. Ron promptly turned an angry shade of red. Both of his brothers snickered.

"You really can't expect much else, Ronnie-"

"-not when you treat a witch like that."

Ron scowled. "I apologized, didn't I?"

"Rather poorly," Charley retorted.

"Can't disagree with you there," Fred said ruefully. George smirked.

"You would know, wouldn't you, brother? What with the _disastrous_ date with Angelina-"

"Shut up."

"As you wish, lady-killer brother of mine. Oh, and _jabbering_ , Miss Firstie?" George asked, a ghost of his normal teasing tone returning. "Never heard _that_ out of one of you before."

Charley flushed. "Hermione used it yester-"

But before she could finish answering, the piercing tones of Professor McGonagall rang through the bathroom, icy rage coating every syllable. "Just _what_ happened _here._ "

She strode though the doorway alongside Professor Flitwick, closely followed by Snape and Professor Quirrell. Charley's scar prickled as the stuttering professor took one look at the troll before beginning to whimper, while Snape gave him a derisive sneer and leaned down to study the creature. Curiously, his pants appeared to be stained with something that almost looked like blood. _No,_ Charley realized with a nauseous start, _that_ _ **is**_ _blood._

Professor Flitwick, though, seemed less enraged, and more concerned, studying their ruined uniforms and the shards of wood stuck in Hermione and Charley's hair. "Are you all uninjured? Did the troll hurt any of you?"

"We're fine, Professor," Charley said quickly. "It didn't get to any of us that badly."

Hermione gave her a flabbergasted look, and opened her mouth, but before she could, Professor McGonagall snapped at them, "Then you are all incredibly lucky. What were any of you thinking, and just _why,_ pray tell, are none of you in your dormitory? The two elder Weasleys, I would expect this - but you, Miss Potter, Mister Longbottom, Mister Weasley, _Miss Granger_ \- I expected better."

Charley had never seen her this furious before - and she had been there when the Transfiguration Professor had chewed Fred and George out for sending Marcus Flint to the hospital wing two weeks ago. McGonagall's lips were pressed into a sharp line, and her eyes were ablaze as she took her students in and the mess they had wrought.

"Please, Professor, it's all my fault," Hermione at last offered in a small voice.

Flitwick blinked. "Miss Granger?"

"I had read about Mountain Trolls before, Professor, in one of my books. I went looking for the troll, and thought I could handle it by myself," she explained, her voice growing in strength and confidence in her lie. Charley's jaw dropped, and she was about to interrupt when Hermione elbowed her in the side, causing the bespectacled girl to look at her in astonishment as she gasped for breath. Neville, meanwhile, tried to look like this story wasn't new to him at all. _Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?_

In the two months she had known her, it had been one of Hermione's ground rules: books also have an answer, trouble and sports are overrated - something that had not been helped when Charley had made the Quidditch team and then nearly been knocked off her broom - and you never, _ever_ , lie to a teacher.

Yet there they were. Hermione was _lying._

"Obviously, I was wrong," Hermione continued, her nerves palpable in her tone. "Charley and Neville came after me, and had no time to alert anyone. If it hadn't been for them or Ron and the twins, I'd be dead."

"Well, in that case," McGonagall said slowly, her face suspicious. "Five points from Gryffindor for a serious lack of judgement, Miss Granger, you foolish girl. How could you _think_ of attempting to tackle a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Charley felt her heart go out to her. Hermione had lived her life by the rules, and here she was, taking McGonagall's lecture to get them out of punishment.

"And then where do you two come into this?" Professor McGonagall asked the Weasley twins suspiciously, shifting her attention. The two Third Years promptly gave her innocent, positively angelic smiles. The Transfiguration Professor did not look impressed.

"Well, you see, Professor, it's a funny story-" Fred began.

"Rather complicated, involving six Gryffindors-"

"Two of them brilliant redheads, plus their brother-"

"Some unfortunate collateral damage-"

"A brilliant plan-"

"And one ungentlemanly troll."

Snape sneered while the First Years laughed. "Out with it already, brats."

"Severus!" Professor McGonagall sharply reprimanded; her face, though, softened a little at the twins' antics. Quirrell gave some sort of indecipherable response that must have been an agreement. Fred meanwhile, only raised his hands.

"No, he is right, Professor, we ought to-"

"Be out with it already. You see, the thing is-"

"It's complicated. And we, pranksters extraordinaire-"

"Revel in it. In short, the First Years were a vital part-"

"A vital part indeed. It was all going so well-"

"Then the troll happened."

"As you can most likely imagine, Professors, we were forced to improvise."

"It didn't go well, but here we are!"

Professor Flitwick sighed. "Do you boys intend to get to the point sometime tonight?"

George grinned widely. "Why, Professor, where would the fun be in that?"

"It's clear they have broken the rules in innumerable different ways," Snape said irritably. "Do we need anything more? Twenty points from Gryffindor for being out after hours."

Charley and Neville winced at the points loss, while Professor McGonagall reluctantly conceded the Potions Master's point. "Severus is right. We need to remove the troll from the premises and repair the wards tonight. If none of you are injured, you may return to Gryffindor tower. Everyone is finishing the feast in their houses."

"And five points to Gryffindor _each_ ," she tacked on, seemingly as an afterthought, before saying bitingly, "For sheer dumb _luck_."

Whether it was for luck or no, Charley didn't care. Neither did Hermione, it would seem as she excitedly whispered to them that would give their house ten points after the deductions. Not bad, all things considered.

"Not everyone can take on a Mountain troll and live to tell the tale," McGonagall informed them sternly. "I hope to never see any of you doing it, or anything remotely similar, again. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

As the Gryffindors silently slunk out the door under the baleful eye of a limping Severus Snape, Charley couldn't help but share a conspiratorial look with Neville and Hermione as they overheard the Heads of House speak, oblivious to the eavesdroppers.

"Minerva, one day you must explain to me why all of Gryffindor House is chronically incapable of growing some form of self-preservation - or some competency at lying."

"It's not my fault, Filius, that your Ravenclaws don't let you catch them breaking the rules."

* * *

From that day forth, nothing really changed for Charley. Hermione and Neville remained her best friends, Snape still made Potions hell, the twins still helped her on her homework, and Transfiguration was her favorite - if the most difficult - class.

And yet everything did.

Ron regarded the three with a wary kind of respect - if still some resentment where Hermione was concerned, and rid them of the 'outcast' status in Gryffindor. She heard herself, Hermione, and Neville referred to as a trio more than once, which was... nice, to be honest. To be regarded as a unit like that.

Life at Hogwarts remained a fantastic mystery Charley was still attempting to solve.

Oh, and there was the dog bite Snape got, as well as the issue of Nicolas Flamel and the third floor. They really needed to look into that.


	3. Every Christmas is the First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Come on, Charley, wake up!"_  
>  _"G'way," Charley mumbled into her pillow._  
>  _"It's Christmas!"_  
>  There's nothing quite like Christmas at Hogwarts during your First Year, Charley Potter finds out. Not with Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger to celebrate it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine, and instead belongs to the lovely J.K. Rowling.  
> Warnings: Self-edited, un-Britpicked, slightly excessively detailed hugging (I don't even know any more. . . nothing too weird, I think), references to morning sickness.

_"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."_

_-Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

* * *

"Come _on,_ Charley, wake up!"

"G'way," Charley mumbled into her pillow. She wanted to _sleep._

Hermione, annoyingly, wasn't deterred. "Come on, it's Christmas! There are presents! Hagrid sent you a present!" she insisted.

Charley groaned, and pressed her face deeper into her wonderful soft pillow, well on her way to blocking out the world—Hermione, mostly—in an attempt for more sleep when she finally processed the last sentence.

Finally, she slowly pulled herself up, her brain still foggy.

"Hagrid. . .sent me a present?" she said quietly, squinting as she looked at the bushy-haired girl. "Why?"

Hermione grinned, and she offered Charley her glasses as she said excitedly, "It's _Christmas,_ Charley. Or Yule, apparently. Come on, Neville's in the common room, take your presents, we can open them all together!"

And with that, she ran out of the room at the speed of a hurricane, leaving Charley blinking, stupefied in the sudden silence.  


". . .I have _presents?"_ she asked the room at large. 

Her roommate proved less than helpful.

"Someone find the banshee and kill it," Parvati Patil grumbled from one bed over. Lavender Brown and Faye Dunbar groaned in agreement, only their tussled hair visible from their beds.

"Why did we have to get a _morning person?_ _"_ Sophie Roper muttered crossly, despite already being half-dressed for the day as she stood in front of her mirror. "And what did you expect, _turnips?"_  


"Just lucky, I guess," Charley said with a shrug, a smile already inching its way onto her face. She craned her neck and brushed her hair back to look at the foot of her bed, and her small smile widened.  


Even from where she was sitting, she could identify Hagrid's messy scrawl.

* * *

As it turned out, Charley _did_ have presents. Lots of them, as a matter of fact.  


Dressed in her ratty blue pajamas, and hair barely brushed, she nearly fell down the stairs as she tried to manage her load of presents— _her_ presents, not Dudley's, but  _hers—_ by herself, without her roommates. 

Sophie Roper, of course, wouldn't spit on Charley if she were on fire, Parvati was usually rather murderous before breakfast, and Charley doubted Lavender and Faye would even _remember_ the incident once they woke up properly. As for Hermione, she'd already taken over a spot in the common room.  


She and Neville had two impressive piles of presents between them, and were sitting in front of the fireplace on top of the plush crimson carpet, a warm fire already roaring. Charley couldn't see Trevor, but she could hear the toad croaking as she tried not to drop a small, fragile-looking gift from Parvati and Padma, stacked on the very top of her pile of presents.  


Of course, her efforts were immediately wasted as her small mountain fell out of her arms, rather than being carefully laid down. Charley flopped down besides Neville with a sigh; she hadn't _heard_ anything break, and nothing had changed shape.  


Neville gave her a small, friendly smile. "Happy Christmas, Charley."  


"Happy Christmas, Neville. And Happy Christmas to you too, Hermione," Charley added, looking at her other best friend, who was nearly vibrating with impatience.

Hermione gave her a perfunctory nod. "Happy Christmas, Charley. Can we _please_ open our gifts, now?"

"I didn't think you'd be a Christmas person, 'Mione," Charley commented. 

The other girl's lip curled with distaste. _"'Mione?_ Ew. Just Hermione will do, I think."

Charley nodded in understanding—and pushed thoughts of Aunt Petunia out of her mind; this was Christmas at _Hogwarts_ —while Neville stuttered out quietly, "I-I-I think Hermione i-is v-very p-p-pretty."

Hermione flushed, tiny pleased smile on her face, but the uncharacteristic embarrassment didn't last long, as the smile quickly faded as she looked down at the small blue gift-wrapped box in her hands.  


"To be honest, it's mostly my parents' fault," Hermione began to explain haltingly. "I never liked going to primary much, outside of class. The girls always wanted to talk about _dolls_ and other things, and even the ones that liked to read always went off with _their_ friends, not me—I even borrowed books from the library on how to make friends, but they were wrong, somehow. We never liked each other." she said frankly.

Charley suddenly felt awfully glad that their year-mates were still upstairs.

"My parents were. . .all the friends I had, I suppose," Hermione continued, turning the box over in her hands, "When Christmas came, the last week of the school, everyone would give each other presents and laugh at me, the bookworm with no friends to give her a card, or buy her a piece of chocolate, or invite on vacation." 

Charley wondered if these girls had ever met Dudley and his gang.

"But, I'd go home, and Mum and Dad would give _me_ presents, books I'd wanted and wish me 'Happy Christmas' and occasionally take me skiing and tell me stories from their work as dentists, and now both of you. . .and it sounds so _stupid,_ really."  


"Not to me," Neville said quietly—but not unsurely, Charley noticed. "Sounds a b-bit like me, G-Gran, and m-my family."  


Charley nodded. "You were lonely, Hermione, like the both of us. Besides, um, I wasn't able to wrap properly in time, but. . ."

She quickly dug through the pile of presents she'd brought down so precariously—presents that had covered the packages she'd carefully set at the foot of her bed last night, after having them finally delivered by a bedraggled-looking pair of Screech Owls the same morning. Neville took his rectangular package, the Flourish & Blotts logo emblazoned upon it, with gentle hands, a wide, genuine smile lighting up his face.

Hermione gave her a questioning look as Charley offered her the black, precisely wrapped package. Charley gave her a raised eyebrow Professor McGonagall would have been proud of. 

Hermione took the package.  


"So," Charley said, "As Hermione told me very loudly, come on, it's Christmas. We must open our presents, immediately."  


Hermione's jaw dropped. "Charley!" 

Charley grinned, and was surprised to hear herself giggle. Gradually, Neville joined in as well, his laughter more quiet than Charley's unrestrained giggling.  


"All right," Hermione groused. Her tone was cross, but Charley could see a tiny, pleased smile lingering at the edge of her lips. "Shall we finally open our presents or do the two of you intend to laugh all day?"

Charley bit back a cheeky yes, instead saying, "Open mine, first."  


Surprisingly, Neville then spoke up with a stuttering suggestion of his own. "M-Maybe we c-c-can open each other's, f-first?"

"Excellent idea, Neville," Hermione said approvingly, as Neville sat up a little straighter. Charley nodded, and Neville and Hermione quickly dug through their own respective piles until they came up with presents whose tags were written in Hermione's tiny print and Neville's blocky handwriting.  


Once they got themselves sorted, the three of them got down to business. Charley was very happy to see how pleased Hermione was with her present with her gift of a  history on famous wizard mathematicians—or arithmancers, they were called. As for herself, Charley was pleased to receive a box of Chocolate Frogs and thin of volume titled _A Brief Summary of the Sport of Quidditch_ from her book-minded friend.  


While Charley had resorted to purloining Hermione's marked-up Flourish & Blotts catalogue in order to give Hermione a book she wanted, Neville had been very easy to shop for. Remembering her friend's love of their Herbology class, it had been easy to order a Herbologist's starter kit, containing seeds for aconite, moonseed, and asphodel, as well as other flora. 

Helpfully, it had also included some specialized materials and warnings, informing Charley to the consequences of not keeping moondew out of contact with the light of the waxing moon.

She'd never quite been so grateful for the space afforded her in her trunk before. Charley had absolutely no desire to re-enact _Jack & the Beanstalk, _Wizarding edition.  


 Neville's surprised, genuine smile made the panic and run to the library more than worth it.

_ His _ present to her, however. . .

Charley ripped open the carefully wrapped gift with enthusiasm, having long since been infected by the holiday spirit.

Then, she stopped as she saw what her prize was. Carefully, she lifted the shreds of red paper off of it, her eyes flicking between it and her best friend incredulously.

"Neville," Charley said, hushed. "Where—Where did you _find_ this?"

There, in her hands, were a stack of letters, no taller than two or three centimeters, all carefully tied up with red ribbon. All of them, she saw as she flipped through the stack, addressed from Lily Potter to Alice Longbottom, from the end of 1979 to shortly before the end of October, 1981.  


None of them were from Alice to Lily—but then, Charley doubted Neville would have wanted to give up what little he had of _his_ mother.  


Charley unfolded one, and began to read and greedily take in her mother's handwriting.

_ Alice, _

_ I would love to act as godmother to your baby, and thank for agreeing to return the favor! It makes me feel a lot better in times like this, knowing she'll have someone to look after.  
_

_ On a less celebratory note, we've just settled in behind the Fidelius, and the baby's been as vocal as she can be about the entire situation, giving me a violent bout of morning sickness in the afternoon. Of course, I can't blame her; it was a lot of magic, and if she's half as stubborn as her parents, she'll already have her own opinions about how things should be done. James was a bit of a well-meaning mess, as per usual, but Bathilda Bagshot came by immediately after, and helped calm him down. She then stayed for a very nice cup of tea. She has the best stories about some of the older generation of the Order from their younger days, particularly about Dumbledore. Personally, I don't know how much to believe, but it's was good a way as any to pass the time, shut up as we are. _

_ James has been taking it as well as can be expected; he still has the Cloak, but after his parents' deaths, he's kept rather subdued about the possibility of sneaking out, much to the relief of everyone involved in this affair. I've been managing, but Bathilda and Mary have been responsible for most of my sanity with the job and apprenticeship put on hold, particularly as I get larger.  
_

_ To answer your question about siblings, I think James and I will hold off on any more until after this wretched war ends. The baby was a very welcome surprise, but I wouldn't want to bring another child into this violent mess; I don't think I could handle going through morning sickness any time soon again, either. Sometime after the war, though, I think we will probably be like you and Frank, adhering to the old saying: one for me, one for him, and one for good luck. Speaking of Frank, have you two decided upon the name Neville yet? We agreed to name the baby Charlotte last night, after Charlus. Plus, with the prophecy Dumbledore's been mentioning, I quite like the sound of my daughter being a free being.  _

_ With the name decided though, the next great argument begins. James is convinced she'll be a star Quidditch player, Sirius thinks she'll outdo the Marauders, and Peter and Remus believe she's going to set academic records. Personally, I want to meet my baby. She'll be ridiculously well loved and watched over by this family, whatever she becomes.  _

_ Lots of love,  _

_ Lily _

Charley tore her eyes from her mother's signature to meet Neville's nervous expression.

"I-I-I wrote G-Gran t-two w-weeks ago," Neville stammered out as Charley stared at him, "A-Asking for l-letters from y-your m-m-mum t-to m-mine. I-I-I thought y-you'd l-like to kn-know a bit m-more about h-her."

She said nothing. Hermione glanced between them nervously.

"I-I-I m-mean," Neville said quickly, his stutter more pronounced than Charley had ever heard it, "I-If y-you d-d-don't w-want them, th-that's f-f-fine, I-I-I j-just th-thought—"

"Neville," Charley interrupted, looking him, re-reading the first line and looking back at him again, "You're—You're mother was. . .was _my_ godmother? And. . .and my mother was. . .yours? And these letters. . ."

Charley didn't need to ask what had had happened to Neville's mother. He had never told her the details, but Charley knew his parents had been in St. Mungo's since shortly after her parents' death.

It also raised the question of where was her _godfather,_ but that, as far as Charley was concerned, was a far less important question for another day.

Neville nodded, his facial expression losing its fear.

"Neville, I— _thank you,"_ Charley said fervently, her throat feeling tight, "I—I. . .you have no idea how much this _. . .thank you._ "

Except he did. Neville gave her a weak smile. "I know."

"Thank you," Charley repeated hoarsely. "Thank you."

Losing her words, Charley bit her lip, and stared at the letters again, as Neville said nothing. The silence between the three was only broken by the crackling of the flames.

Hermione sighed loudly and crossed her arms.

"I believe this is the part where you hug," she said testily, "The Weasley twins will come down here _eventually,_ you know. We don't have all day to ourselves."

Neville and Charley snickered briefly before looking at each other, the humor fading quickly. Charley gave him a shy smile. Neville awkwardly opened his arms. Charley moved in, arms raised at her sides as the two tried to figure out where to place their various limbs and heads. Carefully, she moved her head to the side, making sure she didn't hit his face with her frames, eventually resting her chin lightly on Neville's shoulder. His hands slowly moved up to her shoulder blades, resting there lightly, as if a breeze could move them away.

Charley, for her part, continued to flail a little as she tried to settle on somewhere to place her arms, her hands in loose fists. Neville, thankfully didn't move.

Slowly but surely, as her body realized this wasn't a trap, she began to relax. Neville reciprocated, and before Charley knew it, her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, and she felt the comforting pressure of his chin digging into her shoulder.

"You're very welcome," Neville whispered, _"God-sister."_

Charley gave a tiny gasp that sounded just a little like a sob, and, looking over Neville's shoulder, reached her hand out to Hermione. The bushy-haired girl smiled, and took a step close to Neville, clasping Charley's hand first awkwardly, then tightly as they figured out the most comfortable angle for their fingers.

None of them said anything for a long time before moving apart silently, slightly less awkwardly than before.

She didn't need to say anything, Charley realized. They knew.

For the first time in her life, someone knew.

* * *

"Wait, I've got one more." Charley said, reaching for an innocuous-looking package buried under torn paper.

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked as she thumbed through a history of Ireland from her parents. Neville looked up from his delighted inspection of the kit Charley had given him, watching with mild curiosity.

Charley frowned as she rotated the package. "Doesn't say. There's no tag."

"Open it," Neville suggested. Charley obliged, tearing the brown paper apart. 

A silvery gray, smooth material slithered out of her hands and onto the floor. Hermione and Neville gasped as Charley picked it off the floor. It had a strange, fluid texture to it, and Charley didn't feel she had a good grip on it, even as she gathered it up into a bunch with ease.

"That's an Invisibility Cloak! I've read about those. They're _really_ rare and expensive, " Hermione said breathlessly. "Look! There's a note."

Charley was already bending over to pick up the small piece of parchment, and read it out loud in wonder.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

No signature, Charley noted. And at the mention of her father, she gave a quick glance and private grin to the letters, carefully retied and stacked besides the flute Hagrid had given her, fifty pence piece from the Dursleys, Chocolate frogs, Quidditch book, and bespelled—if very pretty—comb Parvati had given her, meant to help control her hair.

Ready to be read again, eleven years later.

After, of course, Charley decided as the Weasley twins came thundering down the stairs with Ron and Percy in tow, she had a proper meal and snowball fight.

She, Fred, and George had _plans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy Holidays to all of you! I hope y'all have a great end to 2018 with your family and friends, and I'll see all of you on the flip side!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This plot bunny is in the same universe as "Quia Mea Familia" (Which is further along in this series), and was intended to help me get a better grasp on the AU. Feel free to tell me what you thought of it, leave suggestions on other moments - e.g., the troll, confrontation with Riddle, Dudley, - in the comments below!


End file.
